Things We Do in the Dark by Jennifer Hillier EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Jennifer Hillier
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available for Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
There’s a time and a place for erect nipples, but the back of a Seattle police
car definitely isn’t it.
Paris Peralta didn’t think to grab a sweater before they arrested her, so
she’s only wearing a bloodstained tank top. It is July, after all. But the airconditioning is on high, and she feels cold and exposed. With her wrists
cuffed, all she can do is clasp her hands together and hold her forearms up to
cover her breasts. It looks like she’s praying.
She’s not praying. It’s much too late for that.
Her head throbs underneath the butterfly bandage one of the EMTs stuck
on before they put her in the cop car. She must have slammed it into the rim
of the bathtub sometime last night, but she doesn’t remember tripping or
falling. All she remembers is her husband, lying in a bathtub filled with
blood, and the screaming that woke her up this morning.
The blond-ponytailed detective behind the wheel glances at Paris again in
the rearview mirror. Ever since Jimmy signed a streaming deal with new
Netflix competitor Quan six months ago, people have been staring at her a
lot. Paris hates it. When she and Jimmy got married, she expected to live a
quiet life with the retired actor-comedian. That’s the deal they made; that’s
the marriage she signed up for. But then Jimmy changed his mind and unretired, and it was about the worst thing he could have done to her.
And now he’s dead.
The detective has been keeping an eye on her in the back seat the entire
time, her eyes shifting from the road to the mirror every few minutes. Paris
can already tell the woman thinks she did it. Okay, fine, so it looked bad.
There was so much blood, and when the detective arrived on the scene, there
were already three officers in the bedroom pointing their guns straight at
Paris through the bathroom doorway. Soon there were four pairs of eyes
staring at her as if she’d done something terrible. Nobody seemed to be
blinking or breathing, including her.
“Mrs. Peralta, please put the weapon down,” the detective had said. Her
voice was calm and direct as she unholstered her pistol. “And then come out
of the bathroom slowly with your hands up.”
But I don’t have a weapon, Paris thought. It was the second time someone
had told her to do that, and just like before, it didn’t make sense. What
weapon?
Then the detective’s eyes flickered downward. Paris followed her glance
and was shocked to discover that she was still holding Jimmy’s straight razor.
And not just holding it, but clutching it in her right hand, her fingers wrapped
tightly around the handle, her knuckles white. She lifted it up, staring at it in
wonder as she turned it over in her hand. The police officers didn’t like that,
and the detective repeated her demand again in a tone louder and more
commanding than before.
The whole thing was so absurd. Everybody was overreacting. Paris
wasn’t holding a weapon. It was just a shaving tool, one of several straight
razors that Jimmy owned, because her husband was an old-school guy who
liked straight shaves and cassette tapes and landlines. He wasn’t even
allowed to use his straight razors anymore. The worsening tremor in his hand
had rendered them unsafe.
So why the hell was Paris still holding the ebony-handled razor he’d
bought in Germany decades ago?
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